Triage The Twilight Fanfiction
by hat-trix
Summary: Bella is the world's greatest news reporter and corporate employee. She's 20-something now, and has moved on to a great job that's very rewarding... but Edward is still in High School... And he still cares about her.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~TRIAGE: The Twilight Fanfiction~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By: Hat-Trix

An explosion.

The air is castrated with the cry of dynamite or whatever the fuck just blew up the Forks Power plant.

"Oh my god... Oh my go-… this is Bella Swan! Coming to you LIVE with the Channel 13 News Crew!"

Ha. Yet again, I've kept my cool and started my latest piece with something exciting. Something to get you stuck on channel 13. I looked tight in a form-fitting blazer with pinstripes and my hair was done up in a gentle bun so some strands were left to sway in the wind of the explosion. I made my best "Omigosh!" face before beginning my Meryl Streep-esque stammers of "Oh my god." I had it rolling and it was rolling all over you.

"Here at the Forks Power Plant something tragic has happened! Just like in the movies—as if on cue—a cataclysmic explosion has torn through the steel dynamos erected by Vincent St. James in the late 1950's!"

I had them. Our demo was getting face, fury, and the facts—all at once. I was the philanthropist to our waifish couch potato orphan demographic. They are so lucky to have me.

"Surely no one was hurt but if someone were that'd be just ~terrible~! If only the fire department would get here sooner," I swooned.

Tony the cameraman (Cameraman Tony) signaled to me to wrap for what would surely be a very lucrative commercial break.

"Ohmigosh, Tony, are you getting this?" I added just in time.

"CUT!" Tony announced. "Bella, you're fucking outrageous. If I were not gay I'd ask you out a million times until you loved me eternally."

"lol. Thanks Tony you're hot but gay," I chuckled. "Is the… ~distraction~… set up and ready yet?"

"I couldn't find a realistic baby so I just bundled some leaves in a shawl an intern was wearing and put it in the carriage. I wanted to place it further up the road but it kind of rolled so it's now right after that hairpin turn overlooking Forks Gorge," Tony explained.

"Oh, Tony! Say no more that's AT LEAST 15 minutes and all we need to finish this piece. 200 dollars to hire a trailer-trash demolitions expert and we rake in a cool million in ad revenue… Why didn't someone think of this sooner?" I laughed to Tony, my platonic partner in corporate crime.

"Oh they did honey, ever catch an episode of American Idol?" said sexy Tony.

"BWAHAHAHHA oh GOOODNESSS you're a laugh riot I adore that about you," I said.

Some guy off set: "30 seconds, people!"

"Oh fuck," I said as I reset the loose bun-hair strands behind my ears.

"In 3, 2, 1… 0," Tony gradually said each numeral quieter and quieter, until 0 was nothing but a wisp upon his lips.

I pretended to fall and started my journalistic piece from the ground, as if thrown their by the force of the secondary and tertiary explosions. "HOlY SHI-," I looked into the camera and acted like I just noticed it. "Oh! Ahh… We've been sustaining BLAST UPON BLAST of whatever is the cause of this calamity for the past half hour! No helicopter will come within 10 miles of the area so there is ABSOLUTELY NO HOPE of rescue! Yet, in our dire situation, we're still committed to bringing to you the very best in news reporting! Channel 13!"

Another resounding shriek from the forced separation of 50-year-old steel split the air. This fucking power plant is probably a mound of rubble but you can't tell because it's hidden under a towering mixture of flames and smoke.

"Once supplying 45% of the town's power, today some mysterious industrial accident cut that down to zero! Oh here come the firemen now! They sent a truck! Divine providence! We're saved! We're saved!" I began to exude controlled shrieks, so as to convey emotion without desperation.

Tony mouthed "INCREDIBLE!" to me with a look that implied "…AS ALWAYS!" as he turned the camera away from my face and for the road leading to our position: a directorial decision I made publically in front of the camera just a moment earlier by pointing dramatically. Bella – Reporter/Director. There the firemen were approaching on a tacky bright red truck riddled with nozzles of all shapes and sizes like something out of Star Wars. Not only that, but worried-looking men wearing unflattering, dirty yellow garments with reflector strips were hanging off it at every angle, concerned the damsel in distress might have been hurt (I wasn't).

They were still too far to hear, but later on over a somber platter of Tostitos chips and dip, we would swear we heard, "IS THAT A BAAABYYYYYY? FUUCUUUGH!"

The fire truck tried to dodge a small, elegantly upholstered carriage (Tony's got fucking taste, man) and clipped a metal guard rail in the process. The entire truck careened across the double yellow lines and across the other lane until it was over the cliff. That tacky red color of the vehicle took on a demonic sheen as it barreled down the side of the mountain in into the Hell that is Forks Gorge. All the loose firemen died right before our eyes, the streaks of their blood visible on the rock face as the truck rolled over them and it. We were shocked. A delayed, sickening crash echoed out of the crevasse as it hit the bottom. Everyone clasped their hands to their mouths in the sheer horror of everything.

I whispered on impulse, and only because I've been trained to think like this, "Tony… you did get that. You did. Right?"

"Of course," he replied in a slightly louder tone, not taking his eyes of the debacle laid out before us, not realizing this was probably his fault, too.

"Proctor and Gamble may not want ad space for that… but youtube'll fucking love it, at the very least."

"Totally," murmured Tony in agreement, all the while the two of us stood transfixed to the spot because of how strikingly terrible the spectacle of what we just witnessed was.

Then, something incredible happened to make it all better. We thought nothing could remedy this LITERAL car wreck, but something did.

A blur reached out from the road, following its contours, and stopped right in front of us.

"BELLA! I'm here to save you!"

It was that hot guy from my high school chem class, Edward Cullen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Ch. 2: Suspected Intentions~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tony sees the shifty-eyed, pale beauty approach and immediately decides to make himself useful packing up the Ch. 13 News Van. Damn him.

"Hi," I began, apprehensively. I remembered the first time I saw him, all those years ago:

_ The chair beside mine was the only one left, and he walked into the class. He, the most gorgeous creature God has ever taken the time to create. He scanned the room; saw his only seating option, took it; stared into my eyes as I stared into his. That was when I fully understood his beauty. His eyes were abyssal pits of the deepest, most soulful black that beckoned me to fall inside them. I was wholly too willing to oblige. My tampon loosened as I tried to scoot my butt closer to him. I started to blush. He mistook my flushed cheeks as a come-on, and looked away. We both got a B in that class. I should've worn a pad that day. Had I been able to take it slower with him… things may have been different._

He opened his mouth. "Hey… Do you remember me? From…"

"Yea."

"…chemistry in High School," His voice trailed off. "You're not hurt," he observed geniously.

"Yes. I'm not. Now if you'll excuse me I need to wait over here alone while my chauffer takes his sweet time coming to pick me up."

"Oh. Okay, sure thing." He didn't seem to know what to do with himself, but I knew what do with myself: smoke a cigarette blithely while looking in every direction other than his, making small talk in my head about the weather and falling ash to myself.

After a few curious moments, my driver finally appeared. We both stood in silence watching him get out of the company Mclaren while it idled and open the vertical doors to me and with a luxurious gesture. I imagined how regretful he must have felt—seeing the incarnations of my success—for dismissing me as a dork in high school; the fool.

My fantasies were proven true when he began to speak again.

"So, Bella, did you want to… I don't know… go out for coffee sometime or something?"

Ha. He's mine. "Oh… well you know how things are these days, my calendar is full… so many red carpet galas to attend, right?" I chuckled to myself to intimidate him more acutely.

"Oh. Well, if you're ever free…"

"Mmm." I turned my back to him and began to walk towards my sweet-as-fuck ride.

"You know," he slightly shouted, "I really know how to treat a lady!"

Not stopping or looking back, "then do yourself a favor and find one in need of treating."

"Haha, are you sure?" He seemed to get gutsier, "I'm an excellent kisser," he said.

"Great, I'll give you my mom's number." (She's divorced and Bella's father has been missing for years.)

"I can cook too! It's really something!"

"How I'd kill for a frying pan and meat cleaver right now," I mumbled to myself.

Almost at the car, he shouted to ensure that I heard his final cries of desperation. "Also, I'm told I'm really good in the sack!"

"So are bed bugs."

I could hear his self esteem crumbling even from our distance; I relished it.

As I lay my hand on the door about to duck inside, I heard in a shrill falsetto of a man's voice, "Hey! I'm a vampire!"

I froze. Now that fact wasn't totally uninteresting. But I still returned his desperate jab with a haughty throw of the shoulders.

"I'll pray for you," I said and accentuated my retort with the sigh of million-dollar pistons and a satisfying clank from a vertical car door being shut by a Mexican butler. I didn't even bother to look out the window at his surely dejected face as I snapped, "Geraldo! Off to corporate headquarters, on the double!"

They better have a fucking parade waiting to congratulate me on what I accomplished today.

I crossed my legs in the spacious back seat. I felt damn good.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Chapter 3: Hold Up~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We arrived about 30 minutes behind schedule because I kept making Geraldo do laps around the block of our corporate headquarters. There weren't any balloons. Why were there no balloons? I continuously rationalized this grave oversight by imagining simply that they needed some more time to put them up. Last week's moonwalk took an hour to inflate, for example. But there was nothing with each pass of the car…

…this was a surprise party. Lol duh.

"Geraldo! Cease driving at once!" I announced, as he came to a full stop and opened the doors remotely, which made me scowl as he KNOWS I prefer to have my doors hand opened!

I got out of the vehicle without a sideways glance at my hired helper. I walked commandingly down the walkway and let the doormen open the majestic gilded gates for me.

"Good afternoon, Miss Swan, impressive report today, just marvelous you were there just in time for the expl—"

"CAN IT, ALICIA!" I spewed and continued my catwalk strut unimpeded. Since when are there female doormen? When did that become okay? Every glance I stole of her soft, fragile face in the hard-edged uniform was like another fresh bullet hole in the heart of women's rights the world over. She's truly a disgrace. And where THE FUCK is my surprise party and why hasn't it surprised me yet?

I pounded on the elevator keys, summoning it to my floor, attacked the selection panel inside, up to the 4th floor. I huffily tapped my foot while holding the "Door Closed" button so the car wouldn't stop to let on any lazy-ass fuckers trying to hitch a ride on my elevator. Past the 2nd floor, filled with the employees of some shitty marketing firm we rented it out to during the recession which is a wrong I will ~personally~ right one day. Past the 3rd floor, past the peons and rows of cubicles they have come to adorably refer to as "home" and their legion of sustenance machines lining the east wall of their cafeteria-esque break room, hideously adorned with the drawings of the soulless' children. *Ding* I've reached the fourth floor. The doors opened after their signature slight hesitation.

…To the regular affair. The gold-leafed crown molding, the Parisian carpeting, the marble sconces and art deco picture frames… it was all there. No balloons. I stepped out, half curious/half completely blinded by righteous indignation. I had a That's So Raven vision of Tony being led away in handcuffs through the frosted glass door of his office. The doorknob twisted and a burly police officer emerged with him in tow. My vision came true! I turned away to revel in my astounding new ability when I heard:

"Bella, Elia wants to see you."

"Tony! Where are the balloons?"

"What? Bella… Jesus. No, just go see Elia in her office and then come bail me out."

I found the lack of a signature Tony Wink™ at the end of his words a bit disconcerting but I continued down the appropriately lavish corridor of office suites as my elevator car swallowed Tony and the officer behind me. I burst into her office.

"OH! Thank you so MUUCH! Oh wow! ...wait."

"Bella. Take a seat, please?" gestured Elia, who was not bemused.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Chapter 4: That Hilary Duff Song~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

"Bella, what in the CHRIS KRINGLE FUCK were you THINKING?"

I couldn't believe this was the direction she was taking things. Pranks are no fun when they just make me look stupid. Should I play along?

"Bella stop stalling this isn't some kind of prank. Just answer my question. What in God's Nation compelled to FUCK UP as FUCKING UNANIMOUSLY as YOU DID TODAY?"

Oh god. I felt like that fat black girl from Glee being caught by her unsexy version of Tony eating another bag of Cheetos. I wanted to deny it, but the Cheeto dust was caked all over my finger tips, wasn't it? I was so horrified. At least that girl and her ugly friend can sing. I'm fucked.

"Well, Elia, you see, it just happened…" I decided to change tactics. "Okay I know FOR A FACT about 4.2 million dollars of extra ad interest was attracted after the initial breaking news banner was sent out. That's an extra 7.2% of profit for this fiscal quarter! In ONE DAY alone! Not only that, but non-protocol expenditures were kept below a grand, probably even $500… our stupid intern forgot her calculator and a few of the receipts and also—"

"Bella. What did you blow up?"

"Woah WOah WOAH! Look Boss let's not point any fingers here!"

Elia's face calmed into a freakish mask of self control, "I didn't mean to…. BELLA…. Just answer my god-damned question. What was blown up?" She asked, accentuating each word as if they were their own sentences.

"The Forks Power Plant what the fuck…"

"THE FUCKING POWER PLANT, BELLA. DEAREST. AND HOW DO TV'S TURN ON?"

Oh God! What a foolish oversight! I mumbled something about outlets and wall sockets as if they were two different things.

She continued, "You're our best reporter, and only in honor of that fact are you not being fired. You're demoted to 'People's Reporter status."

"OH DON'T, BOSS! How could you sentence me to a career of puff pieces interviewing the town's pity cases over and over? How many times do we need to hear about Starving Steven, Fork's equivalent of Tiny Tim from Mark Twain's The Christmas Carol?"

"Once more, to be exact, he's been sighted outside the public library. There have been complaints. Go talk about it to the camera, you sniveling failure."

She was right; I was on the verge of tears. "But," I hesitated, already fearing the worst, "what about Tony?"

"He was arrested, indicted, fired, and subpoenaed all within three hours of that travesty you two pulled today."

"You mean, that wasn't a stripper gram?"

"Get out."

I began walking

Orphan time

Um me and my brother played a game where we'd email cheeseburgers to one another and then pretend to eat them

We got kicked out of the library after 8 b/c it's "not a hotel" but I wish it was b/c the library is a lot warmer than the ditch we sleep in.

Well, today someone said I look like kate moss. I guess it's cuz I'm so skinny like her!


End file.
